


Personalized Attention

by tactile_introvert



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alastair' a piece of work, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Canon Compliant, Dark fic, Dean in Hell, Gen, Knives, M/M, Psychological Torture, Self-Esteem Issues, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tactile_introvert/pseuds/tactile_introvert
Summary: Dean's time in Hell has just begun. And he has a tour guide ready to show him the ropes.





	Personalized Attention

Pain. Searing, biting, stabbing pain. Nothing could even come close to describing what Dean felt as soon as the hellhound attacked. The vicious maw with steak knives for teeth ripped apart his skin and tore away at his abdominal muscles and intestines. He somehow kept his eyes open long enough to see as well as feel some greenish organ covered in blood slip out of his body.

Then the beast's terrible razor claws dug into his cheekbones, flaying the skin from his face and flooding his eyes with blood. The ear-splitting screams he hadn't realized he'd been making came to an end when blood from God knows where seeped into his throat. He gurgled and sputtered, his body desperate for the oxygen his mind knew wouldn't make a difference. 

He couldn't hear over the roaring of both the beast and the blood in his ears, but he could feel the reverberations of Sam's screams for him. His mind briefly flashed with a scene of Sam staring in horror at his brother, equal parts disgusted and dejected. Then the hound brought a terrible paw down to smash his right collarbone, forcing Dean out of his imagination.

Even as pounds worth of blood and organs poured out of his body, Dean felt heavier than ever, like he was sinking into the floor. By the time he finally felt himself slipping away, he was falling, weighed down, down, down. 

\---

Dean couldn't explain it if he tried, but he just was pain. He had six metal things stabbing into his back that pulled on his muscle even deeper than the hellhound's claws had. Each agonizing injuries from the mauling was healed, as in not present on his body, but the pain was still present and intensified somehow, like someone had turned all of his nerves all the way up and set them on fire for good measure.

He didn't even technically have a body, but he guessed this was how torture worked down here. Whatever hurts when you smash into it gets to ride with you. He also realized he shouldn't be this alert through all the pain he was in, that he should have blacked out long before this, but he didn't. He couldn't get the respite he craved. That was probably part of being here, too. Being able to feel everything all the time, and being able to think about what was happening now and what was to come.

"I should have given you more credit, Dean. I know your brother's the smart one in your family, but you're not so slow on the uptake yourself," a slimy voice whispered. Dean couldn't tell if it was in his ear or his mind. 

"Both, actually. I get the pleasure of watching you inside and out. So I'm up here, right between your porn collection and little brother Sam, though I must say there's quite a naughty bit of overlap. Do you have anything to say for yourself in that respect?" 

"Well, I'm in Hell, aren't I? Pretty sure that speaks to the kind of person I am," Dean snapped. He knew what was up there; he didn't need to be told how screwed up he was.

"I suppose so, but I haven't gotten someone with your kind of report card in a long time. Lust, check. Wrath, ooh boy I can feel that temper roiling. Envious of Sammy and of anyone who actually got to have a childhood," Alastair listed off.

"Don't you dare call him that, you shit eating motherfucker," Dean spouted.

"Ah ah ah, I'm not done yet. Interrupting your torturer is bad etiquette," Alastair cleared his throat.

"As I was saying, your seven deadly sins meter is off the charts. Gluttony's a fun one to work with. So much potential. I could rip out your stomach and have you watch what a thick, third pounder double bacon cheeseburger looks like when it's getting digested. But by far, the most precious thing about you is your complete lack of self-worth. Oh, I can see it now, this will be very entertaining. You just set my imagination off on the darkest paths!

My name is Alastair, and I'll be your guide through eternity in this place. I've been here for so long my eyes turned black, and I'm pleased to tell you that's how you'll end up too," Alastair 's speech concluded and Dean wasn't sure if he was nauseated because of his burning nerve endings or the confirmation of his fate. 

"That's all well and good, but I'd hate to keep you from all the fun you're about to have. If we could go ahead and get started you wouldn't have to wait so long," Dean tried to get the show on the road so he wouldn't have to listen to someone reveling in the knowledge of all his many shortcomings.

"Oh Dean, I can see right through you, don't you remember? Snark doesn't do anything to hide you from me. I can see how you just want the introductions to end and the main event to begin. 

Which brings me to my next point. You're in Hell. Do you really think I'm gonna let you have anything you want? My job is to punish you for all your wicked deeds and make a demon out of you. I even wrote a parody of the Mulan song," Alastair said. Dean's answering groan prompted a chuckle from Alastair. 

"I'll be singing that every hour on the hour, then." Alastair jeered.

"Fucking get on with it," Dean said.

"Ya know, I don't think I have to listen to the guy on the meat hooks. No, there's quite enough I can put you through without raising a finger. For instance, you wanna know what Sammy's up to?" Alastair inquired.

Sam, Dean thought. Sam's all alone. He's up there dealing with Lilith and all the other shit that comes with her. I left him. I left him when he needed me. I couldn't save him. Another fucking class act move from yours truly.

"Yep, that's all true. And right now, Sam's still staring at what remains of your corpse. Trying to find the strength to salt and burn you. He's really sobbing. It's pathetic," Alastair jeered, "I can just see the little cogs going in that mind of his. Going through the rest of his options, and the list is depressingly short. Ruby's got her hat in the ring, and Sam's gotta be considering her at this point."

"Listen here you piece of shit, I don't care what you do to me, but you are not touching Sam. Fucking stab me open or something instead. I don't care, just don't lay a fucking finger on him," Dean spat.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll be plenty busy tending to you. Sam's not on the docket yet. He'll come down when he's ready," came Alastair's sinister reply.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked.

"Meat hooks, remember? Anyway, I'm ready for a change of pace, what about you? I know you usually go for dark green shirts and everything, but I'd much rather see how good you look in red." Once Alastair started moving away, Dean registered just how close he had been, with only about half a foot separating them. 

Most of his surroundings came into focus shortly after Alastair left. Smoky, choking air and fiery, melting mountains. A river that couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to be frozen over or spewing lava wound its way through a grove of bleeding trees. The distant shrieks and primal howls of his fellow tortured souls contributed a uniquely hellish ambiance as well.

"So does Hollywood have insider access to Hell or something? Cause this place looks straight out of a horror movie. And they never get anything right," Dean said. 

"What, you don't like it? I could've gone for some fiery hail, too, but Mephistopheles is such a control freak when it comes to interior design," Alastair complained, "Anyway, this is only the introductory look. Nice and terrifying, but a little cliched. Once we have you down here for a while, you'll start to notice some changes. We like to adapt your little slice of torment to your fears and phobias. It's really fun to see you start losing your grip on reality."

About ten feet ahead was a table with just about every implement of pain in the known universe. There was a part of Dean that was impressed by the spread of weapons. Swords, daggers, knifes, scalpels, whips, chains, bats, lead pipes, rope, fuck there was even a chainsaw.

"Oh, yeah, and I know how to use all 25 bar inches. I love watching it slice through femurs. It's just the most satisfying thing ever," Alastair said, "Would you like to try right off the bat? Or ease into it, maybe start with a scalpel? Bowie knife?"

Dean kept his face impassive as he tried to dampen the terror he felt.

**Author's Note:**

> So Dean's gonna have a great time in Hell. I haven't completed the parody of I'll Make a Man out of You yet, but it shall happen. There's something really fun about writing Alastair. Which is probably thirty kinds of fucked up, but whatever.


End file.
